


The evidence is in the laundry

by cybergirl614



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bickering, Castiel's Tie, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean is Not Amused, Dean-Centric, Destiel - Freeform, Evidence, I Blame Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Implied Sexual Content, Light-Hearted, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Mischief, Sam is a Little Shit, Schmoop, Some Humor, Sorry Not Sorry, Very fluffy, because, bickering and denial, i dunno, idk - Freeform, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-18 15:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4710629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cybergirl614/pseuds/cybergirl614
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam figures out why Dean has been bitchy lately, and decides to have a little fun while solving the problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The evidence is in the laundry

Dean had been unusually chipper a week or so ago, although that had faded into a sulky sullenness as days passed and a case failed to appear. He was increasingly restless and irritable, and it was getting bad enough Sam thought he was going to lose his mind if the brooding kept up. He had no idea what was up, at least until he was cleaning up and found something in the laundry.

Then it all made sense. Cas hadn’t been around in a while, and if what Sam held was any indicator, that was the reason for Dean’s moodiness.

*

“Dean?” Sam stood in the doorway, a patently awful expression on his face. That smirk, it was the smirk of a brother who knew something he shouldn’t.

 

It was never a good face for Sam to wear.

 

“What?” Dean made his voice deadpan as he turned back to his book.

 

“Any idea why I found this in the laundry?” He dangled something in the edge of Dean’s vision, just a glimpse of blue, and Dean was now suddenly thrust from ‘ignore’ to ‘get-the-hell-out-of-my face’ mode. He jumped up from his seat on the couch, snapping the book shut and slamming it to the coffee table as he marched over with every desire to wipe that smug look off Sam’s face.

 

“Give me that,” he demanded, reaching for the tie, but damnit, Sam was obnoxiously pulling that infuriating I’m-taller-than-you trick, holding the item in question balled up in his fist just out of Dean’s reach, his arms extended over his head. Why did a ‘little’ brother have to be taller than him?!

Sam smirked again, and Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

 

“Sammy!”

 

“What? You don’t even know what it is,” Sam teased, lowering his hands to look at the item—god, yes, it was the tie—while Dean lunged for it again.

 

“Give it to me!”

 

“Nope.” Sam continued as Dean yanked the end he had until a harsh ripping sound issued from the strained fabric, a couple royal blue threads beginning to fray under the stress of their tugging.

 

Sam laughed at Dean as he eased up on the pressure he was putting on the material, but still didn’t let it go.

 

“I swear to god, give that back right now, or—“ Dean glared, just daring Sam to try to take it again. He was not letting go of his end.

 

“Or what? You’ll call Cas to smite me?” Sam goaded.

 

“That’s not funny,” Dean snapped.

“Oh, no it is funny. Really, very funny, considering you gave me just how much grief over Gabe?”

 

“Shut up.” He snapped.

“Nope.”

“Give me Cas’ freaking tie. Right now.” Dean demanded.

“Not unless you say it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m not saying anything.” Dean shook his head.

“Fine, then you don’t get it back. Unless you wanna explain to Cas why he has half a tie…”

 

“Fine.” Dean groaned. He knew Sam was not giving in. And…maybe he did deserve it, was the worst part. He had been rather merciless when he found out Sam was going out with Gabe. But really, what had Sam expected? Gabe, who had been so many kinds of unholy pain in the ass to them, that Dean couldn’t possibly have just let that slide.

“I can’t hear you,” Sam prompted.

“I…had Cas over, he was helping with some research, and…” Dean said haltingly. Why had his mouth chosen this minute to dry up so that his lips stuck together? Even if it hadn’t, he wasn’t sure he could have spit out the rest of it.

“What, you’re gonna claim he was helping you research? That doesn’t qualify. Admit why you have his tie and I’ll give it back. I mean I’m really being reasonable here,” Sam said. “You know. Compared to you.”

“Cas spent the night with me,” Dean blurted.

 

“And? I think there was something else you were going to tell me while you were at it,” Sam added.

 

“And what?! What more do you want to know, perv?” Dean snapped.

 

“Dude, chill,” Sam said, finally letting go of his end. “I thinking something along the lines of, ‘I’m sorry I was an ass,’ but I guess I was expecting a little too much,” Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m sorry I’m an ass,” Dean mocked, sending Sam a scathing look.

 

“I’ll take that,” Sam sighed. “Now go ahead and give your boyfriend back his tie.”

 

“Castiel is not my boyfriend!” Dean shouted.

 

His gut sank at the sound of wings behind him. Of course Cas would have heard that, was his first thought. His second was that Sam had knowingly egged him into yelling Cas’ name.

 

“Crap.”

 

“I’ll let you two talk,” Sam said ever-so-helpfully as he slipped out of the room, calling over his shoulder, “I’m heading to town.”

 

“Thanks, Sam.” Dean groaned, turning around to face a hurt-looking Castiel.

 

“That’s not what it sounded like,” he said tiredly. “Sam was being an ass, and…”

He crossed his arms as he spoke, sighing as he realized he was still holding Castiel’s beleaguered tie.

“Here’s your tie back. Sam was being an ass about…” He swallowed, the next word coming out sounding funny, but it was a sort of funny Dean might be able to get used to. “…us.”

Cas looked at him searchingly for a moment as he took the item of clothing from Dean’s hand, a quiet scoff in his voice. “That’s what this is about? The clothing is hardly of consequence. I suppose I forgot it.”

“Yeah,” Dean sighed. “Look, I, uh, what I said…I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Cas replied, smiling at Dean in a way that reassured him his outburst was forgiven.

“Yeah, so am I,” Dean said, watching as Cas stepped forwards, even closer than his usual, until their noses were almost touching. Dean leaned in first, bridging the millimeters-wide gap between their lips. He buried his hands in Cas’ hair, enjoying the way Cas pressed forwards, until Dean was backed up into the wall. Cas was grasping Dean’s shoulders, his back, his arms, hands roving to hold on as much as they could. Then they were both undressing each other where they stood, any irritation promptly forgotten.

*

When Sam got back later that evening, he arrived to the sound of the tv and laughter echoing through the bunker. As he followed the sound, he found Dean in the living room with Cas, lounging on the couch, a smile plastered on his face so wide Sam couldn't remember the last time he'd looked that happy.

Mission accomplished, Sam decided.


End file.
